


Temper

by ironmansassistant



Series: 10 Ways you Meet Team Flash [11]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmansassistant/pseuds/ironmansassistant
Summary: Various ways the reader meets Team Flash.Ability: Can control temperature





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning that domestic abuse is mentioned, and there is a death (non character).

You were normally in control of your abilities; sure there were a couple hiccups soon after you’d gotten them, but once you figured it out they were easy to manipulate. Of course, you hadn’t been so...furious before. No, enraged was a better word.   
Of course, your hiccups had never led to somebody’s death, either.  
You stood on the side and watched as other guests of the art show screamed and ran away from the body that just burst into flames. Your best friend’s boyfriend had only screamed a short while before he’d died. He was dead before he hit the floor, all burned up because of you.  
You gulped, unable to look away from him as a security guard grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed the flames with it. The heat that had flushed your skin was gone, returning to a natural temperature.  
Thankfully your friend was still in the bathroom with her sister applying makeup to her bruises. This was the opening of her gallery, and it was supposed to be one of the best moments of her life; instead her boyfriend gave her a black eye. After you and her sister learned the truth you each had different ideas as to what to do; one wanted to call the police, the other wanted to give him a black eye. That’s what you were headed out there to do, sock him in the eye and show the entire room what a monster he was.  
Instead, you raised his core body temperature so high he spontaneously combusted. Well...maybe it wasn’t so spontaneous. Although it wasn’t on purpose either. You’d been seeing red--this wasn’t...murder. You shook your head as blue and red flashing lights appeared outside, the police already arriving.  
Somewhere between looking out the window and watching police come in, and the body being covered by a white sheet you were ushered away with your friend and her sister. Thankfully her sister took over most of the consoling, but you stayed close. Even when the CSI came by and started to investigate, your heart pounding, you made sure to keep one hand on her shoulder the entire time.  
They couldn’t prove it was you. Yes, you’d admitted wanting to knock out a couple of his teeth for what he’d done, but that wasn’t setting a man on fire.  
Right, there was zero evidence linking any of this to you. Unless you came out and said, “Yes, I can control temperatures of all kinds; drinks, room, body. And yes, I lit that man on fire with my mind. No, I didn’t know that’s what could happen.”  
Yeah, you were in the clear. But why was it when you watched the green-eyed CSI confer with the detective you’d given your statement to you felt so...guilty. Not just guilty, more like it was written on your face.   
A voice in your ear made you jump. Your friend’s sister. “I get that he’s cute, but could you focus?”  
You turned to her as she hugged your friend closer. Without thinking you told her, “You’re better off without him.”  
She shook her head. “I love him.”  
While you could honestly say you didn’t feel sorry that you’d been the one to cause that man’s death, you hated knowing you caused your friend pain. You reached out to touch her, to give her some kind of support but pulled back. “I’ll see if we can go home now.”  
You stood and looked around until Det. West approached with the CSI. He’d given you a hard look when you said you were there to punch the dead man, the “victim” he’d said, but seemed to change his tune a bit when you told him he’d hit your friend. Still, when you asked him now if you could leave, he said he had a couple more questions for you when you.   
“Your friends are free to leave,” he said, “since they weren’t present. But I just have a couple things to go over if you don’t mind.”  
You nodded. “Sure.”  
You said your goodbyes to your friend, knowing she was in good hands with family. It was a little difficult to turn back to the detective, but after a deep breath you managed to stay in control of any runaway emotions.  
“What’s the first thing you remember when you came out of the bathroom?” Det. West asked.   
You thought a moment, remembering how your eyes had gone over all the guests until you found who you were looking for. “I remember seeing him laughing with someone.”  
“Who?”  
You shrugged, trying not to tug on your formal attire. “I don’t remember.” You looked down, unable to look the man in the eyes. It was doubly difficult to keep your gaze forward with the CSI also there. Which made you wonder--why was he there? Why would a CSI be taking part in the interview? “I just remember seeing him laughing--and happy--while she was trying to make up excuses for what he did.”  
“That must have made you mad,” the CSI said. “If someone had hit my best friend…” He looked to the detective, sharing a knowing glance.  
You cleared your throat, swallowing the lump that was forming. “Yeah, well, that’s why I was going to go give him a taste of his own medicine.” Your hands balled into fists, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by the men in front of you. “And then it got really hot and next thing I knew he was...on fire.” Your fingers relaxed.  
“It got hot?” Det West asked.  
You blinked out of a haze, finding the heat had already begun to rise in the room. You swallowed again and nodded. “Uh, yeah. But I think that might have just been me.” Another shrug.  
Det. West looked at the CSI as if that confirmed your guilt. You wanted to start making excuses for yourself but found there wasn’t much else you could say. It would be weird if you kept talking, right?  
“I think that’s all, I’ll be in touch if I have anymore questions,” the detective told you. “But for now we’ll need a sample from you.”  
“A sample?” you questioned.   
“There’s a possible toxin in the area,” the CSI piped up quickly, “so we’re getting blood samples from everyone for testing. Making sure that what happened here isn’t going to happen again.”  
It better not, you thought. “I’m Barry, by the way, and I’ll be taking your...blood.”  
Barry led you to the nearest table and you sat down, watching him pull various tools out of his black kit. He tied a rubber band around your upper arm and told you to make a fist before poking a needle into your vein. As you released your fist you watched the blood pour out. You looked away, seeing a few other people were having the same done to them.  
Lost in thought, Barry had to tap your arm to get your attention again. “All done.”  
You looked down at the little cotton ball and tape that covered the crook of your arm. “Is it wrong that I’m not sorry he’s dead?” you blurted. You quickly covered your mouth and looked at him. “Sorry--I mean...I’m sorry he’s dead, but I’m not.” You furrowed your brow, unable to explain how you felt.  
Barry finished packing away his things. As he clicked the case shut, locking it, he traced his thumb over the plastic. When he looked at you he admitted, “I think I would feel the same if someone had done that to Iris. Uh, Iris is my best friend--we grew up together, she’s practically my sister--and, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”  
You smiled. “Thanks.” Of course, he didn’t know that you were the one to pull the trigger, so to speak.

 

BARRYS POV

 

Barry had never found the perpetrator so quickly, he just wished it wasn’t you. He also wished the team could agree on what to do with you. They were divided, Caitlin and Joe wanted you put in the pipeline to be interrogated further, to ensure you didn’t hurt anyone else, and he and Cisco wanted you free. Two v two.   
“They killed someone,” Caitlin argued. She didn’t seem happy with the idea of putting you into the pipeline, but she wasn’t for keeping you out. She had a point--you killed someone, but she hadn’t looked you in the eyes when you described what happened. Barry had seen the genuine surprise--the shock--on your face when you’d said the victim went up in flames. It wasn’t intentional.   
“She’s got a point,” Cisco agreed.  
“I don’t think they meant to,” Barry retorted, “I don’t think they have complete control. We should be helping them, not locking them up. That’s part of what we do, isn’t?”  
“Also a good point.” Cisco pointed a Twizzler at Barry.  
“Even if it wasn’t intentional that’s still second degree murder,” Caitlin said. “You saw their blood cells were capable of regulating their temperature--if they can affect others or the room around them theoretically they could make a room reach absolute zero and flash freeze you.” She sent him a pointed look, most likely thinking of a certain thief with the Cold gun.  
Barry turned to Joe, the only one he had to convince. He sent his foster father a pleading look. “Let me talk to them, Meta to Meta.”  
“And what if they decide to roast you, too?” Joe asked. “Or freeze you like Caitlin said?”  
“I’ll do what I do best,” Barry replied.  
Joe sighed and ran a hand over his hair.  
“If they freeze you you might not be able to do what you do best,” Cisco mentioned.  
Barry looked to his friend with grinding teeth. He turned back to Joe. “Just let me talk to them--you saw them--you’re a good detective, you must know they didn’t do it on purpose.”  
Joe took a moment to think it over but eventually he nodded. He held up his index finger. “You get one chance--if they attack they’re going in the pipeline.”

 

YOUR POV  
One moment you were in your room, using a small hand vacuum to clear the dust from your dresser, the next you were in a field somewhere on the edge of Central City. You dropped your vacuum, letting it clatter against ground and attempt to suck up any small rocks that were nearby.   
You spun in the night, the world illuminated by the shine of the towers in the distance, as well as the full moon overhead and, oh yeah, the yellow lightning bolts that erupted around you. When they stopped you were standing no more than five feet away from a man in a red suit. You fell to the ground and picked up the vacuum, pointing it at him. “Don’t come any closer!”  
You’d read the blog posts about this guy--the Flash. The guy that supposedly ran around the city and saved people at high speeds. You almost didn’t believe it, but now you had to. “I will use this!”  
The whirring vacuum chose the worst moment to stop doing it’s job. The Flash grinned, of course, because who would be threatened by anyone holding a hand vacuum? And a broken one at that. You smacked it a couple times before holding it out again. “I can still hit really hard with it.”  
The Flash held his hands up. “I just want to talk.” His voice sounded as if it were vibrating around you.  
“Well why not talk in like...a coffee shop or something--like normal people?”  
“Because you and I aren’t normal,” he replied. He stepped forward, waving his hand between you both. “You and I were given extraordinary gifts.”  
You inched back, still holding the vacuum. You looked around the grassy field, knowing there was nowhere you could run. Not that it would matter if you could run anywhere. You bit your lower lip. “You don’t know that.”  
“I know what you did,” he said, his voice almost pleading.   
“I-I...I don’t…” You began to shrink back. You didn’t want to say it out loud.   
“I know it was an accident.”  
You raised your eyes to meet his. He gave you a small nod, urging you to admit it to yourself. You swallowed the lump in your throat for the second time that week. “I just wanted to...to hurt him.” You shook your head, lowering your hands to your sides. “I didn’t mean to...to do that. I didn’t even know that could happen.” You wet your lips. “I’ve never lost control like that before, I swear.”  
A breeze brushed over your skin, running through the dying blades of grass. For a moment they were the only sound as you realized just how serious it was that you’d lost control of your abilities. Of what losing your temper really meant. What if it had been different? What if you’d been having a bad day and someone decided to cut you off on the road? Would their car blow up? Would that happen?  
“I...I’m sorry.” You felt the tears began to well in your eyes as you came to terms with reality. You let the vacuum fall to the ground again. “I was just so angry…”  
You listened as the Flash stepped towards you, crushing the grass beneath his boots. He was in front of you now. “I can help you.” His voice was normal, and weirdly, familiar.  
You jerked your head up at the sound of a normal voice to find the CSI there. The Flash had taken his mask down, his hair sticking out in all directions, and a smile on his face. “My team and I...we can help you control it.”  
You nodded. “Are you referring to my temper or my powers?”  
Barry’s grin widened. “I think we can help with both.”


End file.
